


In This Labyrinth

by pushtoactveit



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 19:35:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1829743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushtoactveit/pseuds/pushtoactveit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wasn't it ironic how he could scare and intimidate an entire opera house, but was rendered completely vulnerable and helpless in the hands of a young prima donna?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is from my Fanfiction account, but I decided to upload it here too! Please comment, thanks for reading!

He had been waiting for her. Her performance had been spectacular and he couldn't wait to see her again and congratulate her. So, as per usual, he hid behind her dressing room mirror and waited for her to enter.

When the door opened and she walked through, he smiled as he heard her singing under her breath, a large grin on her face. She went and sat at her dressing table, taking pins from her hair and brushing it out. It had been her debut as a prima donna today, and he intended to praise her for her talent and success. Naturally, she would thank him in return, it was just in her nature to give somebody else the credit. He was just about to make his presence known to her when the door opened again.

His eyes immediately switched to the newcomer, a scowl forming on his face. It was a boy. He had sand coloured hair and he looked like an over excited puppy, his eyes glinting as he spoke. He watched the interaction intently, trying to decipher who the young boy was to his angel. Surely it was not a suitor; he had made his thoughts and, therefore, demands on that aspect of her life very clear.

They were childhood friends, something about a scarf making the young girl smile in amusement. His frown deepened. He let out an involuntary growl as the boy put his hands on his angel's shoulders.

He was about to interrupt when the boy asked her to go out with him that night. Luckily, his angel knew better and declined. The boy didn't take no for an answer, and, as he rushed out of the room to get his hat, he decided to finally speak.

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She was the picture of beauty that night. Still high off of the thrill of performing, she seemed to be glowing as she followed him down to his home. She didn't seem to be resisting, which made him unnecessarily happy. He momentarily relished in the fact that it was he who would be with her that night, not that silly little boy from the theatre.

She went through her regular warm ups and he himself nearly fainted when she collapsed into his arms a short while afterwards. He knew she must be tired, but not so much to pass out. Nevertheless, he, with a sense of protectiveness, carried her in his arms to his boat and laid his cape over her. She looked peaceful as she slept and he had to fight the urge to caress her gentle face and silky hair which threatened to be a hard feat.

With one last look at her, he turned around and moved to his organ, determined to spend the next couple of hours or so composing, waiting for her to awake.

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It was the coolness that alerted him. He had been so caught up in his music that he hadn't noticed her coming up behind him. So, when her small wrist slid over his mask and grasped it, he only realised that something had changed because the right side of his face had become less heated and concealed. Next came the light and the fact that his right eye wasn't partially covered anymore. That's when he flipped out.

How dare she? Why would she want to know what he was hiding underneath his mask? He had kept it hidden for so long, and now she had the gall to just yank it off with no abandon. He had done it to protect people from his face, to make him look like less of a monster. And now the one person who he had so desperately wanted to convince that he was normal and eventually loveable had compromised his entire plan. There was no way he could salvage the situation.

And, so, as he realised there was no other option, he let his emotions take over. He span around and chased after her, pulling her to him by the waist and throwing her to the floor. He looked around desperately to try and find something to cover his face with, anything would do. His anger was insurmountable, it empowered him and made him feel invincible. It filled him with an urge to kill.

He turned to the cowering girl on the floor, scrunched up in a ball, her hair covering her face and fluttering out onto the stone floor. He winced at how scared she looked, trembling and shaking on the floor, curled up in the corner of the room. He had done that, he had thrown her there. Perhaps he was a monster after all.

Nevertheless, he tried to talk to her. He got on the floor and attempted to tell her that there was more to him than his face, that she could learn to love him just like he loved her. She crawled away from him, even sitting directly against the cold wall just to avoid touching him. Every now and again, when she focused on him, she would cringe and turn away from him.

The fear in her eyes made him want to weep. He shouldn't have to put her through this. She's wasn't supposed to be scared of him, she was supposed to want to be with him forever. But he supposed that even the kindest hearts couldn't excuse the monstrosity that he was cursed with as a face. He watched her closely as she turned to look at him again, almost pitying him. Despite that, he could sense curiosity in her gaze.

He watched her gentle hands as they curled around the mask beside her and lifted it up carefully, and his face softened significantly. She leant over to him and passed him the white mask, letting her delicate fingers skim across it as he claimed it and put it back on his face. He felt vulnerable without his mask on. It just so happened that he felt vulnerable when in the presence of her too.

He jumped up suddenly, grasping her on the arm and pulling her to a standing position. He resulted to take her back to her dressing room. His emotions were still in full force and he knew that if he stayed with her any longer, he could lose control. And that had already happened too much tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't it ironic how he could scare and intimidate an entire opera house, but was rendered completely vulnerable and helpless in the hands of a young prima donna?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This is the chapter that kind of starts off the plot, but if you don't get it, it'll be explained in chapter 3 :) please comment!

He waited until the next night to speak to her again. He had contemplated going up to her while she was preparing for the show, but he had decided against it. Even though he could not see her, he could definitely hear her. He could hear every thing that was going on in his theatre.

She sang beautifully, and as he waited for her behind the mirror again, he replayed the previous night's events over in his head. Would she still be afraid of him? Well, that was a given, of course she would, who wouldn't? He had been thinking about it all day, over analysing every move she made and every gasp she took, everything he could remember.

He looked up when the door opened and he smiled involuntarily, momentarily forgetting what had put him in such a bad mood. She was singing under her breath, something she seemed to do a lot, and the grin on her face made him feel unadulteratedly happy. She proceeded to sit down on the chair in front of her vanity and take out the pins from her hair. He smiled as he realised that she must have a very precise method to return to her normal self after a performance, and with a deep breath he opened his mouth to speak to her.

The door opened then, just when he was about to vocalise his presence. It was that blasted boy again, grinning happily, just like the night before. He was talking to her about the scarf again, and he started glaring at the boy when he heard her giggle, just like she had the night before.

The boy but his hands on her shoulders and he nearly shouted. Once again, the boy had asked her to go out with him. Seriously, could he not take a hint? She had said no last night, one day would not change her mind. He smirked when she declined yet again. But then the boy just went out of the room to get his hat again, and he assumed the boy would be back soon if he didn't interfere.

And so, he spoke to her.

He had expected her to be at least a little afraid of him, but she seemed perfectly normal. She was looking at him just as curiously as she had the night before, still letting him touch her and speak to her without running away and screaming for help. Not that he wanted her to be scared of him, he had just been preparing himself for her inevitable caution and revulsion. But instead of looking at him as though he was a disgusting creature, she looked innocently up at him, as though he had all the answers in the world.

He didn't let it bother him. He should be thanking her, praising her for not stopping their sessions. She must obviously be amazingly brave and strong to be able to overlook the obvious problem of his face. He had known she was unimaginably kind, but he had not expected her to be completely fine with his face.

He felt nervous every time he looked at her, as though, by just seeing the mask, the memories of the previous night would come rushing back and she would run and hide from him again. But with every glance, she seemed to follow him even more obediently; he thinks she may have even smiled at him once.

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Just like the night before, she did her regular vocal warm ups. It was going great until she fainted again. Luckily, he caught her just in time and laid her down in the boat. He immediately became concerned as he looked at her. Her face was pale and cool, yet that didn't take away from the utter beauty that she bestowed. Her long hair begged for his touch, and he had to move away from her to resist it.

He thought concernedly about why she could have fainted again. Still, it was only her second real performance as the prima donna, so she may have worn herself out yet again. But surely all this fainting wasn't good for her health. He wondered whether she fainted when she was at home or in rehearsals, anywhere that he couldn't access easily. The latter he could help with, but he couldn't tend to her at home, couldn't make sure she was unharmed.

He noticed his organ and, with a glance at the unconscious girl, he moved to the instrument. He was currently writing his newest piece, Don Juan Triumphant. He was writing the character of Aminta specifically for his angel, and he could not wait until she would be able to sing it for him. Although, it was a piece of art, so he could not rush it, not matter how much he wanted her to sing his own music in the present.

He added a few new lines to his work, scribbling onto the parchment. He was in the middle of one of Aminta's lines when his world seemed to brighten. The candles all around him seemed more severe and intense, and he felt a distinct coolness on the usually flustered side of his face. Instinctively, he turned to look to his side, finding his angel there, grasping his mask in her delicate fingers and staring at him with a look of pure horror.

His hands immediately flew to his face, and he let out a cry of shock. Surely she should have known better than to repeat last night's events. Had she forgotten what he looked like? Impossible. And, even even if she had forgotten the sight, nothing could make her forget the utter fear she had felt, and that should have persuaded her to never relive the ordeal.

She stumbled back, clutching the mask tightly now, still staring at him. He moved towards her, and she jumped slightly, shuddering as she looked at him, constantly staring at his face. She put a hand up to her gaping mouth, still pressing the mask to her side.

"Christine?" He asked her confusedly. "Look, I know it's horrible, but I thought that-"

He stopped when she backed away from him, leaning against the wall, just where she had been trembling the night before. "Thought what?" Her voice was small and soft, and the utter terror in it made him wince.

He shook his head slightly. "You- you acted as though you were fine with this deformity when I brought you here, I thought that you had overlooked it."

She still gave him the same wide eyed look, but this time he could swear he saw pity enter her gaze. "I-I didn't know what it was then."

He shook his head in confusion, still trying to make sure he didn't make any sudden movements lest she run away. He couldn't hold the bitterness in his voice back though. "Oh, don't act like you have no idea, you practically ran from it last night-"

"What? No, I didn't-", she shook her head in confusion. She looked down at the floor. "Can I go back now?" After a beat, she made eye contact with him. "Please?"

He deflated and looked down sadly, but nodded anyway. "Of course, Christine."

She nodded and walked towards him cautiously, but still recoiled when he moved closer to her. She walked past him towards the boat, and sat down in it gently, making sure her back was to him. He followed her. When he stepped into the boat, she turned to him and offered the mask to him. As soon as he grasped it, she immediately pulled her hand away, obviously afraid of touching him. He sighed in disappointment and sadness. Of course.

The boat ride was silent. So was the walk back to her dressing room. She kept at least two strides behind him at all times, and when they reached the mirror, he had to step aside before she could walk through to make sure they didn't touch. When the mirror closed, he stayed there for a minute, watching as she took deep breaths and looked about frantically, as though she was scared he would jump out from a corner of the room and scare her.

When she walked towards the door, she gave the smallest look to the mirror, then left.

He didn't understand. What had happened? He hadn't dreamt last night, no, his progress on Don Juan proved that. But how could she not remember? Could she have forgotten in such little time? Of course not, his Christine was smart and remembered all the little details.

He shook his head in confusion before walking slowly back down to his home.


End file.
